“It’s very homey,” she decides. “But I wouldn’t mind a tour to see the rest.”
I’m glad Garrick suggested moving my things into his room for appearance’s sake since we weren’t sure where they’d want to stay. The last thing I want is to explain why all my stuff is in a spare room far from the man I married.
It didn’t take long to show them things, skipping the room I temporarily share with Garrick for privacy purposes. It feels too intimate showing them where I go to sleep with a hard, naked body pressed against me, or where I wake up with a face between my legs.
We’ve been switching between his bed and mine every night, so I suppose it doesn’t really matter that all our stuff is in one room now. But there’s something unspoken about that—like it’s a big step we’re taking by him giving me closet space even though his walk-in closet is bigger than the bedroom I had at my old apartment.
When we’re back downstairs, Mom squeezes my hand to hold me back as Dad gawks at some records framed on the wall. “You’re happy, right?”
I frown at the question. “Yes. Why?”
Her eyes are cautious. “I just never thought you’d like a place like this. Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice. Safe. Spacious. But it’s not…you.”
Biting my lip, I contemplate my answer carefully. Considering Garrick bought this long before I was in the picture, it’s not surprising that the house is solely him. And it isn’t like I have anything to contribute to it since everything we need is here. “I have something to show you, but we’ll need our jackets.”
A few minutes later, my parents follow me outside to the flower garden protected by the frost shield covers that Yasmin and Garrick helped me install when I saw the weather forecast for the next few weeks.
The array or purples, yellows, pinks, and whites are all still visible through the see-through material. No longer is the backyard an open area of boring green but scattered with bright colors that liven up the space. The back corner is strictly for the vegetables we’ll grow when the warmer weather hits because Yasmin said that gets the most sunlight in the summertime.
Mom asks, “You did all this?”
“With some help,” I answer quietly. “But yeah. I remembered everything Grandma taught me and made this space mine.”
It felt odd to say, but I remember the words that are practically chanted to me by the man who’s undoubtedly watching me through the large kitchen window that faces the backyard.
What’s mine is yours.
Staring at the flower beds and plants that are growing beautifully, I start to believe he’s right. And for once, I don’t think about what’s to come in the future.
Mom wraps our arms together and Dad comes over and kisses my head before dropping an arm around Mom’s shoulder. “You made something of yourself here just like you said you would. We’re proud of you.”
Guilt crashes into me, pulling me away from the moment I’m having.
It’s only when Elaine calls out, “Lunch is ready, everyone. And Chase arrived just in time!” that I paint on a smile to mask everything I’m feeling inside as I turn to my parents.
I give them a quiet, “Let’s eat.”
The blindfold covering my eyes feels like silk, probably one of the many ties Garrick has hanging in his closet that I’m almost positive he’s never worn unless there’s a formal event. Though, I found out from Michael that he has stylists who provide him with clothes for award shows. He’d called asking to make time for a fitting because Garrick is presenting something at the Golden Globes and needs a tux for the occasion. But my husband said he’d only do it if I was there sitting at one of the tables with him.
Michael never got back to him about that, something Garrick hasn’t forgotten about.
“Where are we?” I ask for the fifth time since he told me to trust him. I’ve been off ever since my parents left. Dad gave me a big hug, Mom did the same, and I’d held back my tears long enough for their car to pull away before letting them loose into Garrick’s dress shirt until a hideous water stain was left behind.
I hear him snicker as we stop walking, his hands on my hips as he turns me toward something. My nerves are firing a mile a minute until I hear something…meow?
“Garrick?”
“One more second, love.”
There’s shuffling, then a bell ringing that sounds awfully like the one on the door at our favorite eating spot where rarely anybody bothers us. Suddenly, there’s a hand in mine, callused from the time they’ve spent tuning and strumming guitars and scaling piano keys, and rough from the work they’ve done helping me build flowerbeds.
He guides us inside somewhere, the warmth quickly heating me from the chilly breeze outside.
Then I hear it.
Animals.
Dogs barking.
Cats meowing.
Metal rattling.
When I was younger, I used to go by the pet store and play with the animals hoping my parents would let me choose one. I even saved up the money I’d gotten from the veggie stand my grandparents let me help run in hopes that I could pick out something of my own. In hindsight, it’s better that they said no even if I threw a big tantrum and told them I hated them approximately ten times. It would have been nearly impossible moving across the country with a pet and finding a place that’d take them.
“I’m going to take us into the back, so walk carefully. There’s a narrow hallway ahead.” I do as he says, one foot in front of the other as my hand reaches out and rests on his shoulder as he walks us somewhere far enough away to drown out the noises.
I fidget when he stops me again. “I’m getting nervous. What’s going on?”
A door opens and another set of footsteps comes in.
